


Coffee is for Closers (Good Omens Barista AU)

by patrick_kohai



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Barista Crowley, Coffee, College, Dorms, Gay, Gay Sex, Human, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, barista
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25561408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrick_kohai/pseuds/patrick_kohai
Summary: Aziraphale is a college student in London living with his abusive boyfriend Gabriel. This follows him as he becomes well acquainted with the local barista at Beelze-Brew, Crowley.I hate descriptions, but I'm a decent writer ;)Headsup: I'm an American who knows nothing about college or what London looks like, don't hate me too much.Slowwwww burn
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing an AU, first time writing Good Omens.
> 
> POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING:  
> DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH:  
> -Substance abuse  
> -Sexual content  
> -Discussion of sexual abuse  
> -Homophobia  
> -Self-harm
> 
> THANK YOU!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)

# Chapter One:

It was a nice day Aziraphale supposed. The sky was rather gloomy, but no more than usual in their part of London then any other day.

If you asked just about anyone they’d say. “What wonderful weather we’re having!” And no one would really know if they meant it. For Aziraphale, though, it was just nice enough for him.

The young man could only be described as cherubic in nature (on more than one occasion that is exactly how he was characterized) with his practically snow, blonde hair and dazzlingly bright blue eyes that lit up when a book particularly peaked his interest. Anyone passing him would swear they saw a light softly glow around him as though God herself was smiling at only him. 

On this particularly nice day, Aziraphale had just finished up his last class at the local University of Westminster and was making his way to his favorite coffee shop. He made his way knowingly having done this countless times before on chilly days, lonely days, or any other type of day because everyday was a day to drink a hot chocolate; weather be damned.

He walked inside smelling the familiar aroma of roasted coffee that beckoned everyone that passed by to come in. The blonde walked right up to the counter with a smile that could melt any retail employee’s stone cold, forced smile into one of genuine happiness. The man behind the counter was almost comically the opposition to our angelic friend in almost every describable way; stark red hair, lanky figure, and nothing short of grimacing at everyone that ambled their way in for a drink. This gentleman had a name tag written in red and white chalk that read ‘Crowley’ in scrawled lettering that could only be assumed was his own atrocious handwriting. 

The man presumably named Crowley (because do you ever remember the retail worker you visit six times a week to buy your groceries from? (No, presumably not) He looked up from the drink he was expertly making when Aziraphale approached the register.

“Back again? This is the third time this week.” Crowley finished the drink and passed it to the only other patron in the shop and thanked him for coming with a cynically sweet smile. He made his way over to the register stopping just in front of the blonde.

“How observant, I am back again!” Aziraphale beamed at the red haired man in front of him. “I’ll take my usual with extra whipped cream today, I think.” 

“Extra whipped cream? Daring are we?” Crowley rang him up for a medium hot chocolate, having done it dozens of times before. Outstretching his long, manicured fingers to retrieve his card without even looking up from the screen.

Aziraphale handed it over, watching him with little interest. “I suppose so, helps me study. Is it really so close to Christmas that you all have released your holiday beverages? I could’ve sworn we weren’t even past Halloween yet…”

Crowley snorted at this handing his card back as he walked over to make the hot cocoa. “I said the same thing when my boss threw the red aprons at me. He insisted that getting a jump start on the pumpkin-spice-fucking-lattes was the way to amp up holiday spirits. Spirits and sales."

Aziraphale watched intently as Crowley expertly steamed the milk for his drink. Crowley was always so meticulous every time he made a beverage taking extra care to ensure the quality, so much so that he had a reputation at the store for making the best. His hands would pour the milk in such a way that whenever he made a drink, latte art of hearts or leaves were pretty much always present. Today, though, there was just extra mocha, vanilla, and he left even more room in the cup for extra whipped cream.

“Quite…” Aziraphale nervously tugged on the strap to his messenger bag slewn across his shoulder eyeing the way Crowley was working. He was being careful not to make eye contact with him though. “You must have had a day off yesterday. I came by to get my usual and I couldn’t find you anywhere, I think Hastur -- was that their name? -- was here instead...” He trailed off.

The red head put a lid on the drink. “As a matter of fact, I did have off yesterday. Every now and then the boss does decide to let me sleep.” He was smiling softly and set it down in front of Aziraphale, finally meeting his gaze. “Interesting that you would even take notice of that though; there are other baristas who can make hot chocolates.”

Aziraphale took a long drink from it, smiling contentedly at the warm sweetness coming from the cup. He held it in both of his hands as though it was the most precious thing in the whole world to him, which in this moment, it was. He was always very careful to hold it encompassed with many a napkin lest it spill onto his perfectly neat, tartan bow tie and waistcoat. 

“I know other people can make them, but they never really do taste as good as yours. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it's a devilish temptation this drink.” 

Crowley opened his mouth to reply in just the affirmative when from the back of the shop he heard his boss, Lucifer, yelling. ”Crowleyyyyy! You’ve got work tah be done! Quit frat’n’zing with yer regulars and get back to cleaning.”

He rolled his eyes at this sudden interruption. “Yes sir, your most honorable sir!” He yelled to the back room. He turned back to Aziraphale. “I guess I’ll have to catch up with you next time then. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

The blonde shuffled his feet pretending not to care.

“I might just come by again, might be busy.”

Crowley winked at him knowingly and walked off towards the backroom yelling something along the lines of ‘get off your own ass’.

Aziraphale made his way out of the Beelze-Brew coffee shop and headed down the sidewalk with cocoa now acquired. He was well aware that he could no longer ignore the fact that it was indeed time to go home. Well if home is what you opted to call a college dormitory.

Aziraphale was trudging his way through the soft amount of snow on the ground, drinking from his cocoa every now and then. He was absolutely dreading how close he was to being at the front door…

Would Gabriel be home? Would his friends be over for the millionth time? Were they -- and pray that they weren’t -- drinking as they always seemed to be?

He’d never wanted to live in the dorms to begin with, but when his parents got a whiff of him going to Westminster, they had insisted this was the best option for everyone. Aziraphale needed to get his head out of the books he was always reading and attempt to have some semblance of a social life. 

He walked inside the dormitory and up to his door, shuffling through his bag to find his key, he could already hear the numerous voices drifting out. Aziraphale unlocked the door and quietly slipped inside smelling beer and what could only be described as testosterone filled men.

“Aye! Zira is that you?!” 

Most certainly Gabriel yelling from the main room.

“Yes, dear, it’s me…” Aziraphale responded exasperatedly.

“Well join us, Saldaphon and Michael are both here!!”

“Joy.” Aziraphale mumbled to himself, tightening his grip around his bag, making his way to the sitting area of their shared dorm.

He approached them apprehensively, eyeing the multiple beer cans and bottles of liquor strewn across the coffee table and floor. It smelled vaguely of a bar. Additionally, Saldaphon and Michael were both watching him with disgusted reprehension. 

“You’re going to drink with us, yes?” Gabriel stood up and wrapped his arm around him, roughly gripping his shoulder. He always was much more handsy when drinking copiously.

“I uh...was going to study...there’s an um...a test tomorrow in my class on ancient Grecian philosophy…” He was lying of course, there was no test, but he certainly wasn’t going to be privy to this sort of entertainment for the rest of the night. Lying for a good reason he supposed.

Gabriel looked puzzled. “And? Come onnnnnn, you never drink with usss. You’re always held up in our room for one reason or another, join usss!” He gripped his shoulder tighter and steered him towards their small kitchenette.

Aziraphale reluctantly got pulled along until he was firmly pressed against the counter by him. His breath reeked of stale beer.

“Gabriel, please...you must know I’m not really up to drinking every night. You should enjoy yourself just with the others…” He wished they could go back to when they first moved in together at the dorm and Gabriel would only drink on the occasion...he was so much nicer then.

“I didn’t really ask you, did I? I told you this is what I’d like. Are you not going to join us because you’d prefer your textbooks over me? I thought you liked Sandalphon at least?” The tone in his voice was quickly approaching that of irritation.

Aziraphale slowly shook his head, looking down at his scuffed up shoes. “Your friends are fine, really, I just don’t want to tonight...” 

Gabriel shoved him out of the way causing Aziraphale to trip over his feet and spill the hot chocolate all over the marbled tile. “Whatever. We’ll fucking drink without you. You disgust me, you know? All you think about is yourself. You can barely afford to fucking live here and you still leave me to pick up after you all of the goddammed time! The least you could do is join my friends and I.” He was getting louder. Loud enough that Michael was snickering in the living room.

Tears welled up in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up...Gabriel please…” He was grabbing at the closest towel to dry it all up in an attempt to appease his drunken rage.

“Don’t you fucking dare ‘Gabriel please’ me. We aren’t in bed, you leach.” He pushed past Aziraphale and went back into the living room to resume his drinking fest. No doubt planning to drink late into the evening.

Aziraphale cleaned up what he could and went into the bedroom not even attempting to make eye contact with anyone in the living room. He could hear them laughing it up.

“He’ll be begging me later, just wait and see. It’s always a show with him.” Gabriel said chuckling at himself and taking another swig from his bottle.

He closed the door quietly not wanting to make Gabriel anymore annoyed then he already was and set his bag on the floor. He hadn’t realized that the tears he was holding back earlier were fully spilling out at this point.

Aziraphale missed when Gabriel was happy to see him and those days were far and few between. The beginning of their relationship was great, they spent late nights watching movies, cooking meals together, or studying if they had the chance. They were very careful not to let anyone know that they were together for fear of what everyone might say, what with Aziraphale studying religion and Gabriel working to become a lawyer. A relationship of their kind was better off left up to secrecy unless absolutely necessary is what Gabriel had said back then. It was what they shared together that was important, everyone else didn’t exactly matter.  


As time passed though, it became increasingly more obvious that Gabriel only liked Aziraphale because he was quick to say yes and hardly ever said no to anything that he wanted. Aziraphale couldn’t so much as ask for the remote for the T.V. without Gabriel yelling at him to stop being so needy or pay for his own things if he wanted to use his. It was always about money and the amount of time Gabriel wasted spending with him. He was really only interested in drinking and using Aziraphale for his sexual frustrations. It was a wonder how he did so well in his classes.

Aziraphale wiped his eyes and got undressed into his sleep pants and lilac sleep shirt with an angel wing decal on it. He crawled into bed pulling the covers tight around himself trying to stop crying, knowing Gabriel would be along later and wouldn’t want to deal with that.

Gabriel would wander in drunk as high heaven, wake Aziraphale up, and inevitably pin him down until he’d give in to whatever sexual fantasy the elder man desired. It was never pleasant and Aziraphale usually ended up bruising either from being hit repeatedly for not doing what was asked or being fucked in such a way that it was impossible not to have some kind of mark. Usually both if the night was especially bad. 

Aziraphale shuddered at the thought of the last time Gabriel was like this, he’d probably have to skip classes the next day…

It worked out fine, it always did. Aziraphale could handle it, he was certain of it.

Wiping his eyes one final time, he curled into himself and attempted to fall asleep until the inevitable happened later that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)
> 
> Headsup: I'm an American who knows nothing about college or what London looks like, don't hate me too much.
> 
> First time writing an AU, first time writing Good Omens.
> 
> POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING:  
> DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH:  
> -Substance abuse  
> -Sexual content  
> -Discussion of sexual abuse  
> -Homophobia  
> -Self-harm
> 
> THANK YOU!

# Chapter Two:

The next morning Aziraphale woke from a fitful night, having pains in practically every place imaginable. He rolled onto his side, vaguely aware that there was dried blood stuck to his shoulder, and turned toward the figure beside him.

Gabriel was sound asleep facing away from him with the comforter wrapped tightly around his body in an attempt to remain warm. You’d have never known that this was the same person that had assaulted Aziraphale just merely hours before. It’d never cross your mind from just looking at him that he was even capable of such a thing. You’d probably deny it up until the moment you realized there were developing bruises on his knuckles and the remaining stench of alcohol.

Aziraphale surmised that it would be best not to wake him and attempted to get himself out of bed without jostling the sheets too much. He edged his way to their shared bathroom and hesitantly flipped on the lights. Standing before him was most certainly his own, naked reflection, but stained from head to toe in scratch marks and bruising. As stated before, this was nothing new coming from Gabriel, it was to be expected. There was perhaps even a comfort in the knowledge that it did always happen just as predicted.

The only truthfully jarring thing Aziraphale could see was that of a bruise the size of a golf-ball forming on the side of his jaw. This must’ve been where Gabriel had shoved him too hard onto one side causing him to hit his jaw against the metal bed frame. That had indeed hurt even in the moment coming close to nearly knocking him unconscious if the memory served him right.

But there was nothing to be done about it now, the deed had already been carried out whether or not Aziraphale wanted to remember it. All that could be done now was to move forward. He closed the bathroom door softly in an attempt to remain inaudible to the slumbering beast. He turned on the water carefully, checking the temperature and climbed inside the waiting fall. He was trying his absolute best to remain silent despite the growing pains all over his now aching body.

Aziraphale stayed in there just long enough for everything surrounding him to become numb, stepped out, and got dressed in their shared room. He grabbed for his backpack despite having no intention of going to class this morning and made his way out of their dormitory.

This gave him new found confidence no longer being weighed down by the events of the previous evening. It dawned on him as he peered at his worn out wrist watch that it was far to early for even the school library to be open. Noting that he had no better place to waste the day away, he ambled his way over to the coffee shop hoping to reach them just after opening time.

Was it just his imagination that the light around him decidedly dreadful? Mornings usually gave Aziraphale a certain spring to his step, but this morning it felt as though the world was threatening to crush him.

He pushed his way inside holding his backpack tightly causing his shoulder to twinge in a decidedly painful way.

“Welcome to Beelze-Brew. Devilishly delectable down to the last drop.” Crowley droned from behind the counter. He looked up to see a timid Aziraphale walking through the threshold of their store.

“Aziraphale? You’re awfully…” He was staring at the discoloration along his jaw and what could only be described as a disheveled appearance. “...early.”

Aziraphale couldn’t look at him head on. “Just a hot chocolate, dear…” He said this just above a whisper.

“Lucifer, I’m taking my break now!”

“Now?! We just opened yah bastard!” He groaned already making his way out to the register.

Crowley was hardly listening to this and came out from behind the counter, pulling his apron over his head, tossing it behind him. He sauntered his way right up to the blonde, 

“What happened?” He was demanding to know. That much was obvious.

Aziraphale subconsciously put his hand over the side of his bruised face. “Nothing happened. Not a thing that concerns you. I’m here for my usual.” The poorly executed façade that he was putting on was already cracking. He looked definitively dejected to say the least.

“It does concern me. You look like you got run over by a truck, Aziraphale. I saw you just yesterday evening…” It wasn’t bothering the redhead that this was just a regular customer to him. It was his favorite customer. His number one recurring customer. Crowley could count on one hand the number of times Aziraphale hadn’t come to see him since he’d started working there. 

Aziraphale looked up at him, both of his eyes red and puffy from crying early into the morning. “I don’t want to bring you into this...c-can I please just have my drink for now? I’m not going anywhere…” He made his way to the vacant table in the corner, brushing past the barista.

Crowley wasn’t sure exactly why he was so angry at this particular moment, but decided not to press the situation further. He made his way back behind the counter not paying any attention to his boss who was staring at the both of them now.

He opted to make both of them drinks instead of pushing the subject.

Aziraphale pulled out his notes and his textbook pretending all was right with the world well aware that he wasn’t going to get out of telling Crowley exactly what happened at some point. He could pretend at least.

Our mix-matched pair wasn’t what you would call friends, more along the lines of work associates. There was always an unspoken bond between a bartender and the local drunkard; coffee really was no different than that. Different addictions for different brands of junkies as one might put it.

Crowley sat across from him setting the hot chocolate down whilst taking a sip of his own black coffee. 

“Don’t worry about the drink, it’s on me today.”

On any normal day, Aziraphale would’ve avidly objected to such a gesture of kindness, but today he remained silent. He took a small sip of it and held it between his hands, not looking up at the red head’s bright, assuming, yellow eyes.

They stayed like this for a minute not really acknowledging the other’s existence, being comforted by the sounds of the espresso machine whirring to life every now and then.

Aziraphale rubbed his fingers over the top of the coffee cup, he started slowly. “I’m sure by now you have probably ascertained that I attend classes at Westminster…”

Crowley remained silent and just listened to him carefully.

“...a while back, probably much closer to summer time now, I came in here with someone, a man to be...exact…” He rubbed the back of his knuckles softly, pushing himself to say something perhaps an attempt at feeling better later on.

Crowley did remember that day because it was the only day, he recalled, that Aziraphale hadn’t ordered his usual. In fact, he hadn’t ordered at all. The gentleman had ordered for the both of them opting for heavily caffeinated lattes with little-to-no sugar in them. It seemed exceptionally out of the ordinary for the regular to make such a drastic change. Thinking back on it, the blonde hadn’t looked well that day either.

Aziraphale continued. “That man is my...partner. I live in his room on campus…”

Crowley could sense where this was going and he was becoming increasingly more agitated as the conversation wore on, he kept quiet, though, trying his best not to look at the bruising on his wrists. He didn’t know Aziraphale in the slightest, but he knew he definitely didn’t deserve whatever had happened to him last night.

Aziraphale stopped suddenly. “I-I really shouldn’t be telling you this, it really isn’t your concern…” He sounded choked, as if he could barely get the last words out.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I know we don’t know one another, but what happened isn’t right. It’s fucked up, Aziraphale.” 

He spoke rapidly. “I know, I know. I’m fine now. Really. It was my fault anyways, though. I should have just done what he wanted from the beginning of the night. Definitely shouldn’t have spilled my drink. It usually is--” Aziraphale cut his rambling short upon looking up to see Crowley practically seething.

“There is no way in hell you deserved anything that happened to you. I don’t care if you punched him in the face and called him a fucking pansy, no one should be allowed to hurt you. He shouldn’t be allowed to take anything from you without your permission. Don’t blame yourself.” Crowley knew what it felt like to be treated lesser than, he knew it all too well. Most people made quick, judgemental decisions based upon his jarring appearance every day and he hated it. Aziraphale on the other hand presented nothing short of celestial and didn’t deserve to have anything happen to him by anyone. Not to mention his uncanny politeness and very obvious need to please everyone around him. There really was no situation Crowley could think of where violence and, or brute force would ever need to be used against such a gentle soul.

Aziraphale was taken aback by the sudden outburst Crowley made causing his face to flush soft red with secondhand embarrassment. 

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be...I know we don’t know one another, but please tell me if there's something I can do to help you…”

Aziraphale didn’t know why the barista was treating him with such unequivocal kindness, but it made his eyes lighten just the tiniest bit. He took a sip of his drink.

“C-Can I stay here and study for awhile…? Just until the library opens that is...I won’t be a bother and I can even pay for my drinks, I swear.”

Crowley smiled softly at this. “Stay as long as you like, I’m not bothered in the slightest.”

He stood up, pushed in his chair, and chugged the last of his coffee. Eyeing the man before him as he did so taking note of the first time he’d ever seen Aziraphale without a bowtie on. He was only wearing a cream colored dress shirt and an unbuttoned vest; it made him look younger to be so disorderly. Out of character would be the best way to describe it. 

He met Aziraphale’s gaze. “I have to head back to work, but if you’re up for it I’m off at two. I’d be up for lunch if you were?”

Aziraphale watched all of this carefully. “I really shouldn’t…”

“If you're still here by then, I insist. My treat.” Crowley made his way back behind the counter, pulling his apron on as he went not waiting for a response.

The blonde smiled the smallest bit at the barista as he disappeared into the backroom. Aziraphale looked down at his textbooks using this as a much needed down time to get some studying done. He attempted to forget everything that had happened in the last day and just focus on what he could control in front of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)
> 
> Read the trigger warnings in case one of them bothers you -- 
> 
> There’s going to be discussions of theological topics throughout this fanfiction and I think it is important to note that I do not go to school for theology. I’ve studied religious subjects, but nothing to the extent in which I’m going to write Aziraphale knowing. So don’t hate me too much.
> 
> Additionally, I am a barista, so some of the knowledge presented is indeed factual to the best of my understanding. 
> 
> Lastly, bare with me through some of these text conversations.

# Chapter Three:

Crowley couldn’t tell you what caused him to be so understanding towards his angelic counterpart. He’d probably chalk it up to having pulled a double, no sleep, and running only on espresso for the third time this week. Was food really a necessity? He’d definitely deny that the earlier interaction was anything more than customer service. Even now he’d done his absolute best to ignore the fact that Aziraphale was even sitting in the corner of their store.

The thing about Crowley was that he didn’t do friendships, much less relationships. And we’d already established that even if he was, Aziraphale couldn’t be interested because he was too busy dealing with Mr. Abusive. The only people Crowley regularly confided in were his coworkers: Hastur and Lucifer. There was a level of comfort that came with walking into your place of work free from all other baggage. Everyone there had no reason to judge or ask too many questions, they were just there to hear you out and do their jobs.

“Could yah focus on yer job for more than a bloody fuckin’ second? Yer makin’ a goddamn mess!” Lucifer wouldn’t stop griping at everything and cleaning around the too skinny, red-head. There were toppings, syrup, milk, disgusting pitchers littering the counters from how distracted he’d gotten.

Crowley never paid much attention to Lucifer when he got like this (which was far more often than was probably healthy for the nearly fifty-year-old man). Lucifer was a harmless, Scotsman who devoted every waking moment to his little hole in the wall coffee shop. He could tell you everything you’d ever want to know about the subject -- what blends went with breakfast, the way to steam the milk to create a perfect froth, and whether or not you really do want that five shot latte. He’d spent his entire life travelling the world to ascertain which country really did create the best cup of joe which according to him, Ethiopia was the only one worth its salt. It all led up to Lucifer being a bitter old man who’s only topic of conversation was, well, coffee.

“If you’d just leave me alone up here it wouldn’t bother you so much, you oaf. I’m just waiting on Hastur to get here then I’m booking it anyways, so go do inventory or something.” Crowley wasn’t really paying attention to his job for what were obvious reasons; he had plans with someone for the first time in what felt like a millennia.

Lucifer huffed and went back to the register. He lowered his voice a tad. “That kid looks like a right disaster. Don’ know why yer tryna get involved…” This was his way of caring it seemed.

That was the problem with Lucifer, he always had a way of knowing exactly what doubts were in the back of Crowley’s mind. Was having a friend that important to him that he’d concern himself in Aziraphale’s business? He doubted it would be worth it, but he just looked so sad and desperate to talk to someone…

“I’m not getting involved.” Crowley said. “I’m just trying to lift his spirits a bit…”

He contemplated this, throwing his hands up in minor defeat. “I don’t really know, Lucy. I’m just bored if I’m being honest. This kid looks like he could use a friend.”

Lucifer was chuckling to himself. “Alright, alright, I hear yah. Didn’ mean to stress ya out.”

The topic of discussion was humming along to the jazz tune that was softly playing over the store speakers, paying no attention to the pair behind the counter. He hadn’t done anything but take notes and occasionally check his phone for messages the last few hours.

Crowley shook his head at this and checked the time just as the door chimed, signaling someone was coming inside. To their delight, Hastur had decided to show up for their shift on time.

“Yes! You actually decided to come! I figured you were just going to leave me here all day, again.” There was obvious excitement radiating off of Crowley.

Hastur made their way behind the counter shoving their cigarette pack into the back pocket of their jeans. They were a notorious no call, no show at Beelze-Brew, choosing instead to pop pills and play video games until the rent finally came around. Lucifer only kept them employed because Crowley didn’t mind staying late, coming in early, and all about running the store alongside him. Hastur would show up when it really counted, they always did.

“Don’t patronize me, Anthony.” They pulled their white, greasy hair into a messy bun. “I know you had a long week without me being here much.”

They pulled their apron on and tied it in the back. “I’m gonna chase some uppers with a couple cups of coffee, so don’t worry about covering me tomorrow either.”

Crowley smirked. “I do appreciate you doing your job for once this month. I swear when your rent is due, you suddenly become the most likable person around the office.” 

“Ha. Ha. Piss off before I suddenly have a change of heart.” From Hastur’s tone it seemed as though the uppers in reference were probably the last they’d have for a while. There was always a rollercoaster of emotions emanating from them because at any given moment Hastur was probably high as a kite. If it came in a small, concealable capsule, Hastur probably knew who sold it to you and how much they’d most certainly ripped you off.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Crowley untied his apron and exchanged it for a black, bomber style leather jacket. He grabbed his keys from out of his pocket and made his way over to Aziraphale who was none the wiser to his surroundings.

Crowley pulled the seat from in front of him, sat in the chair backwards, and crossed his arms over the top of it.

“Did you decide whether or not to take me up on my offer for lunch?” He did his best not to let desperation slip into his words.

Aziraphale sat up to the sudden intrusion into his work space. Slightly startled by it. “Oh...” He set his pen down. “I have and I don’t see why I shouldn’t. It’s not as if I have something better to do then what I’m doing now anyways.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah and you just seem so busy. It’s a shame I’ll be taking you away from all of this work. What’re you studying anyhow?”

Aziraphale put his materials away. “We’re currently studying about how different societies interpret religion and what effect that has on their culture. More specifically, whether or not, historically, a developing country should have religion as one of their declarative theories of statehood. It’s all very interesting, indeed.” He was clearly very passionate about this; he lit up at the mere mention of the curriculum.

Crowley blinked. “I really have no idea what most of that means, but it seems to interest you a lot. You’ll have to tell me about it over lunch.” It wasn’t that he was uneducated, he just preferred immediate, non-academic gratification rather than a degree. 

The blonde pushed in his chair and pulled the messenger bag over his head and grinned. “If you’d really like to hear about it, I definitely will.”

Hastur had their arms crossed and was watching after the both of them, giving Crowley a very questionable look.

He waved after them as he held the door open for Aziraphale and followed suit. He made his way to the parking lot just around the corner from the shop.

“Where are we going exactly, dear? There isn’t much in terms of dining to choose from around here, is there?” Aziraphale stayed close behind him, suddenly second guessing following this practical stranger to his car. They approached what could only be assumed as Crowley’s vehicle seeing as how he walked to the driver’s side with key in hand.

“Wait, this is your car? This can’t actually be yours?” His eyes must be deceiving him, this car was antique to say the very least.

The barista’s pride and joy was a 1926, 6 ½ Liter, black Bentley which was coveted by any and all car collectors. To hell with car collectors, it was coveted by anyone with working eyesight.

“Yes, she is indeed all mine. I fixed her up myself after my dad talked about selling it out from under my grandfather’s nose. Took quite some time to get her looking this good, I’ll admit.” Crowley recited very matter of factly.

“It’s absolutely stunning! I’m impressed with how perfect it all looks. You’ve done a fantastic job keeping it tidy.”

The red head beamed at this and seated himself in the driver’s side. “You asked where we’re going? Do you like crepes? I was thinking since neither of us had breakfast, we could go to a small restaurant not too far from here?”

Aziraphale settled into the passenger seat, setting his bag on his lap. He smoothed down his dress shirt and buttoned his vest up appropriately. It would’ve been humorous to anyone passing by to see the young man in his pressed, brightly colored clothing against that of the black leather car seat. He looked very out of place, but not entirely uncomfortable in this setting.

“That sounds lovely, I’ve never actually had crepes.” He thought this aloud and didn’t seem to mind all that much that he wasn’t sure where they were going. He felt oddly at ease sitting beside Crowley. 

“It’s decided then. If you’ve never had them then it is even that much more important that we go there.”

Crowley drove at much too fast a speed down the road, not really reading any of the signage that they passed. Stop signs and street lights were more of a suggestion in his book anyhow.

Aziraphale’s phone vibrated, notifying him of an incoming message just as they were pulling into the diner’s parking lot. The both of them got out of the Bentley and stepped their way into the restaurant. 

He pulled his outdated cell phone from his bag and peered at his inbox:

_When do you plan on being home? You weren’t here when I woke up._

Aziraphale steadily inhaled following Crowley and the hostess to their table. He sat across from the older man, phone still in hand. The blonde did his best not to tremble as he ordered a simple water for now.

Crowley took his seat as well and watched the way in which he was gripping his cell phone. He could take a wild (all be it accurate) guess as to who was on the other end. 

Neither one of them had really noticed that the restaurant they found themselves in was entirely vacant, the curtains were drawn causing it to appear much later. If it weren’t two platonic men sitting across from one another, it could even appear romantic.

Aziraphale set his phone face down on the table, deciding that maybe now was not the most opportune time to respond to Gabriel. He opted to look through the menu instead, taking a mental note that it was much more expensive then he’d thought when Crowley asked him for lunch. His wallet was going to be much lighter then he’d care to admit after this extravagance. 

Sensing the discomfort Crowley spoke first. “Get whatever you want, I insist. I feel like it’s the least I could do. Think of it as payback for all the times you’ve over-tipped at the shop.” He smiled a small bit hoping to ease any tension that might be there now.

Aziraphale was noticeably uncomfortable, constantly shifting his eyes from the menu to his phone, “I’m sorry, I’m just not very used to having someone pay for me...or even show interest. I really don’t mean to be a bother in any way.”

“You’re not, there isn’t any reason to apologize, Aziraphale. Let’s talk about something you like, anything really. I want to get your mind off of what’s bothering you.”

He accepted this, “perhaps you’re right. This restaurant really is nice, it’s not at all what I was expecting.”

Crowley took off his jacket and placed it behind his chair courteously, “Well, what were you expecting? You don’t look like someone who should be eating anywhere other than fine establishments. Well, fine establishments and shitty coffee shops.” There was a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he inspected his friend (if that’s what you’d call them now) from across the table.

Aziraphale’s face turned a soft pink. “I’m not sure exactly...I don’t mean for you to take offense to this, but when you said crepes, I half expected an Easy Diner.” 

He laughed at this. “No offense taken I suppose. You definitely wouldn’t be the first to assume I’d like some place like that. I like nicer establishments if the price is right.” 

The waitress set their drinks down. “Did we decide on what we’d like?”

“I’ll have your Les Crêpes de la Chandeleur. I heard they are delicious.” Aziraphale smiled politely up at her.

“I’ll take the same actually and a glass of brandy, neat.”

The waitress took note of this, retrieved their menus, and left them back to their conversations.

Crowley leaned forward onto his hand eyeing the opposition. “I’d love to hear about your studies then.”

Aziraphale’s whole face lit up at this, sending him into an entire monologue about the intricacies of his course work for nearly the next hour of their meal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)
> 
> Heyo, this chapter is exceptionally short, but the next two are definitely going to be pretty long, so don't hate me too much. Thank you!

# Chapter Four:

Before either of them had realized, close to two hours had flown by. Crowley had insisted on dessert after seeing Aziraphale’s expression perk up at the mention of a menu. They were, however, well aware that it was time to be going home.

“Really, dear, you barely ate anything. Are you always like this?” Aziraphale wiped the sides of his mouth as he said this. 

Crowley paid their bill and grabbed his coat as he spoke. “Not always, but you could say that I’m watching my figure.”

The blonde stood up and followed behind him as they made their way back to the car. “I don’t know why...you seem perfectly acceptable to me.”

Acceptable wasn’t the preferred adjective used by most to describe Crowley, it would be morbidly thin. You’d most often compare him to that of a twig.

“It’s really nothing...I fill up on coffee at work, anyway…” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Crowley walked a delicate line of never eating and having just enough to be able to make it through the day.

Aziraphale let this slide for now, making a mental note to bring it up again when the time was right. He instead, finally looked at his phone that had 4 new messages:

_Zira, I’ve told you I hate it when you don’t answer me. It’s been like an hour. Where are you?_

_:(_

_Are you mad at me? What’s wrong?_

_Fine, we can talk whenever you get home. I have to study. Don’t bother answering._

Aziraphale sat back into the passenger seat and responded to Gabriel:

_I’m on my way home, accidentally fell asleep at the library._

When had he become so comfortable lying to Gabriel? He couldn’t remember when that had become a norm in their relationship, but then he couldn’t remember when any of this became normal.

“Um...sorry, but where would you like to go?” Crowley was just hands on the steering wheel waiting for a reply.

“Oh, I suppose it’s time we went our separate ways then...you can just drop me off back at the shop if you’d like?” Aziraphale set his phone back down and turned to his red haired friend.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home? It’s freezing outside, I’d hate to think you’d walk home in this kind of weather…” Crowley wasn’t meeting his gaze.

“It is rather drafty...I can direct you then. It really isn’t too far past the shop anyways…”

They headed that way, Crowley remaining quiet only listening to the directions Aziraphale gave him every turn or so until they were in front of a very large condominium. It looked quite expensive from the outside especially when you accounted for the Tesla parked in the driveway.

“This is it…” Aziraphale smiled a very small, disingenuous smile. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me today. It’s been so long since someone has been this nice to me…”

“It’s nothing, Aziraphale. Can I…” Crowley swallowed hard and turned in his seat towards him, “Give me your phone.”

The blonde obliged, not exactly sure what he wanted with it.  
Crowley very quickly went to his contacts and typed in his number under the name ‘Crowley The Barista’ in case Aziraphale didn’t remember his name after this. 

He handed it back to him and spoke rather softly, “If you want to, text me. I’m usually not doing anything except working and I’d like to do this again.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Or if you just want to talk, I’ll listen, okay?”

Aziraphale blushed profusely, “I-I'd like to as well, it was lovely."

"You sure you don't want me to walk you to the door?" Crowley said this before he could even stop himself. He was reluctant to let his friend go now that he was aware of what sort of person he lived with.

Aziraphale smiled. "No, dear, I'll be fine. I'll text you, okay? I'll see you soon, promise."

He stepped out of the Bentley with a smile plastered to his face, being unable to contain how happy he was from the events of the day. He didn't think even Gabriel could ruin his now enlightened mood.

Crowley on the other hand was rather tense as he drove in the direction of his apartment. Wondering why he’d gotten himself involved in this to begin with. 

He drove much too fast, pulling into the driveway in record timing, and sat there while he waited for his head to stop doing mental gymnastics. Aziraphale was so kind and sweet and utterly fucking adorable (but our dear Crowley would never admit to such a thing), he only wished that he could've been there with him longer. Infinitely longer.

He got out, slamming the door closed as he did so, and sulked into the apartment. He walked up through the dingy stairwell which truly was a comforting sight after today. 

Across the hall lived a lively, old lady by the name of Madame Tracey who ran a courting business that she eloquently put as ‘The Intimate Care and Relaxation for the Discerning Gentleman’. Today, the courtesan was grabbing her letters from their shared mailboxes.

"Crowley, oh Crowley, the water bill is due when you have the time, love. Don't dawdle on that, you know how Mr. Shadwell gets when you're late on your bills!"

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve already paid the tosser. If I owe him money, I’ll pay it without you having to remind me.” Crowley took his key to the apartment door stepping around her as he did so.

She made a distinctive sound of contemptment at his response.

“No reason to be short, love, I’m only trying to help you keep your head on straight.” She pulled her lavish dressing robe tightly around herself and went back into her respective housing. 

“Nosey, harlot.” He pushed open his door, closing it behind him, and leaned against it for support. Crowley’s room was just a studio apartment that was sparsely decorated by not much else than a pull-out, leather couch, and a plethora of potted plants. The kitchen was quite small and only housed the usual necessities, a worn out coffee maker, and a set table. He hardly had people over, so anything else felt unnecessary to have.

He plopped down onto the bed throwing an arm over the top of his head contemplating the day he’d had. Crowley was definitely frustrated, but at what exactly? That there was no denying that he’d had a fantastic outing with Aziraphale, but to what end? He couldn’t even be sure if they were indeed friends after that. He'd know if the blonde still shopped at Beelze-Brew, but would they still act like strangers?

In that exact moment, his phone vibrated from the end table next to him. Crowley reached over it and examined the message.

From an unknown number:

_Hello! This is Aziraphale from earlier. Thank you for today_

_I hope we can see one another again?_

_Also, what was that band you were playing in the car? It’s now very much stuck in my head._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)

# Chapter Five:

The next week passed as what could only be described as mundanely for the barista. He’d been working basically all hours of the day seeing as how Hastur had indeed made their rent and was no longer interested in working. There had also been no sight of Crowley’s favourite patron leaving him in a less than dismal mood. He’d texted him once or twice the last few days, but it wasn’t much conversation outside of the usual pleasantries. A lot less friendly than Crowley had wanted after their shared experience the other day.

“--and yah always have tah make sure the water isn’t _too_ hot. Otherwise you’ll burn the grinds an’ we don’ want that now do yah? And always let it sit for approximately fifteen minutes. No less, yah hear? --'' Lucifer was droning on and on about the ins and outs of a french press. 

“Lucy, I’m aware of how to make a fucking cup of coffee. If you hadn’t noticed, I am here every goddamn day. Shut. Up. Before. I. Burn. You.” Crowley was rubbing his temples between his palms trying to evade the inevitable headache that was brewing. He was so close to being able to leave, they were finishing cleaning up the shop for the night; he was just waiting on Lucy to finish counting the tills at this point.

“Yah know, yah could be nicer to me for once. I am yer boss after all. I sign yer damn paychecks.” He finished counting and put the money into the safe for the night. They grabbed their stuff and made their way to the entrance of the shop, pulling off aprons as they went.

“I don’t owe you niceness if you’re going to be utterly fucking annoying every day I decide to come to work.” Crowley was being irritable to say the very least. He locked the door behind him. “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, yah? Hastur swears they’re showing up. If not, just call me before open.”

“Yah, yah, drive safe.” He headed in the opposite direction of where Crowley was going. The light outside gave the appearance of dusk and brought with it a very chilled air surrounding all who walked through it. He preferred this time of day, it soothed him knowing there was nothing, but time between him and his quaint, little flat.

Just as he was approaching the Bently, he felt his phone vibrate alerting him that there was someone calling. He rarely got calls at all and if he did receive one, it was nine times out of ten from Lucifer telling him to come into work early. This time, though, the contact very clearly read ‘Azira’ causing his heart to do a summersault. He quickly answered it.

“Hello?” There was a definitive beat coming from the other end of the phone which most definitely signified loud music.

“Crowley!! Hey! Are you still at work?!” He had to shout over the background noise.

“No, I just finished up. Why? Are you okay?” Crowley’s mind immediately wandered to dark places of which Gabriel was the main antagonist. He didn’t know if he could control himself if the guy ever did anything else to Aziraphale.

“I’m fine, dear! Gabriel threw a party to congratulate himself on passing his bar exam! It’s right packed at our house! Do you wanna join me? I don’t exactly know many people here and it’d be lovely to see you again!”

Crowley did his absolute best not to burst into the dopiest grin one could imagine which was rightfully out of place to his usual stoic expression. Before he could stop himself, he popped the trunk of the car open and was grabbing for the extra sweater he kept there. He jumped into the front seat and changed into it with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear.

“Yeah, I’d love to actually. Is it where I dropped you off last?”

“Yes! I’m very excited for you to come! It's that same place, yes, I’ll message you the address. I’ll see you soon!!” 

“See you, Azira.” 

They both hung up and as promised Crowley immediately received a text telling him exactly where to go. 

Just like last time, it really was only a few streets away from the shop. This time he made his way into the parking lot beside the building, he could already hear a very loud sound system going off somewhere inside the building. Crowley parked towards the back in an effort to stay away from anyone that might drunkenly decide to leave the party later that evening. He texted Aziraphale that he was parked and where he should actually be going. 

He made his way towards the building, hands in his pockets, nervously trying to forget that he probably wasn’t exactly even invited (should he have stopped and bought a gift?). He’d managed to assume which part of the building the music was coming from, but he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to go in without an invitation. 

Crowley’s nerves were rattling around in his chest by this time because none of this was familiar to him. He stood there waiting awkwardly shuffling his feet against the ground trying to distract himself from the butterflies in his stomach. To top it off, it was utterly freezing outside, so he was doing his best to keep warm while he waited.

Groups of twos or threes passed him every few minutes all walking in the same direction of where presumably the party was being held. Crowley watched as they went inside to one of the nearby entrances causing the music from inside to bellow outwards and into the night only to be stifled by the door again. His eyes were stuck on the entrance, waiting for Aziraphale to come out any moment.

The anticipation was well worth it when the cherubic figure of none other than Azira excused himself past the couple going in. He was what Crowley could only describe as breathtaking; his face was flushed and he was dressed more informally then he’d ever seen him before.

“Crowley!!” The blonde rushed right up and gave him a hug, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you made it!” He quickly pulled his arms back realizing he’d been a little bit brash in his movements. 

“Y-Yah, no big deal, Azira. I was just off work anyways…” He was blushing and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly at the sudden rush of contact from the blonde. “Can we go inside? It’s really fucking cold out here.” 

“Oh, yes of course. Follow me.” Guiding Crowley inside of the dormitory. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was packed. We’ve never had this many people over before; Gabriel really wanted to go all out.”

Crowley stayed very close behind Aziraphale not wanting to lose him through the darkly lit living room. Everyone around them had a cup of some sort of alcoholic beverage, not a single person looked to be in their right mind, but not one of them looked concerned about it. The music was so loud that anyone who was paying close attention would’ve noticed the liquor bottles strewn across the room were vibrating from the soundwaves. The main source of light was from a single lamp in the corner and a wall-mounted TV displaying various music videos. It caused the entire setting to shift lighter and darker depending on the scene giving the whole room a club vibe.

He followed behind him into the kitchen which to Crowley’s amusement somehow managed to have a larger selection of alcohol then the living room. Aziraphale pulled him over to the table eyeing the selection.

“I don’t drink much, but you’re welcome to partake in anything you’d like, dear.” He took a seat at the table as he said this. Surprisingly this was one of the quieter parts of the house, most people opting to grab a drink and quickly scatter back into the party.

Crowley sat across from him pouring a glass of cheap scotch. “I don’t really drink either. At least not usually.” He took a sip. “Why aren’t you with the guest of honor?”

“Because he’s probably off getting high with his friends Michael or Uriel...I can’t stand it. Makes your nose itch and you just become really loud and energetic. They should really pick up a better habit if you ask me...not to mention it’s really terrible for you, cocaine that is…” Aziraphale was trailing off as he said all this.

“Have you told Gabriel it bothers you that he does it?”

“Yes, but when you’re already taking part in it, it’s really hard to stop. He doesn’t do it very often...just when there's something to celebrate.”

Crowley took a long sip, listening to everything Aziraphale was saying. People were shuffling into the kitchen every few minutes to take more alcohol into the living room, in every corner there were groups of people drinking, taking drugs, or smoking cigarettes. The two of them looked very out of place sitting at the table not really partaking in the festivities. 

“Do you really not know anyone that’s here?”

Aziraphale shook his head in accordance with no. “They’re mostly law and criminal justice majors. I sort of stick to my studies when I’m at school and Gabriel doesn’t really like it when I invite people over. I usually just stay with him or in our room during parties. It gets rather awkward when you don’t want to drink and you don’t know anyone who’s here…”

Crowley poured himself another glass of scotch having already finished the first. “Well I’m here with you now, so let’s enjoy ourselves, alright? Everyone else bloody well is.” He grabbed another cup off of the table. “Let me make you a mixed drink. Trust me, I’ll make something even you’d probably like.”

Aziraphale smiled, “Are you trying to tempt me? I suppose one wouldn’t hurt anything, it is a party after all…”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The house around them was really heating up, the music was turned louder and if it was possible, everyone was becoming progressively more fucked up as the night wore on. From the other room they could hear everyone chanting for groups of people to chug beers and hammer back shots.

Crowley by now had a fair few glasses of scotch and switched to holding the bottle in his lap rather than bothering with a cup. Aziraphale had taken him up on the mixed drinks and had thoroughly enjoyed watching him make them each time he’d finish one off. No one really paid much attention to either of them besides offering them cigarettes or asking for a certain bottle off the table.

Crowley was lounging back into his chair feeling the warmth of the alcohol take over him as his conversation with Aziraphale continued on. They hadn’t taken notice of any of this for almost two hours.

“No, I really don’t read! I prefer movies or going to the theatre over sitting at home with a book.” Crowley took a slug from his scotch bottle, “It’s the experience of the cinema, I’d say! The popcorn and all that, you know?!” He was fully yelling over the music coming from the living room.

“No, no, you gotta use your imagination! You can have any experience you’d like when reading!!” Aziraphale was grinning, clearly being affected from the two drinks he’d had, “I took a lecture on Shakespearean literature last semester that would put your boring cinematic TV programs out of business!”

“You’d really pick sitting at home reading Hamlet instead of going to see a movie with me?! I’d even pay for the concessions! I’m not that heartless!” 

Someone from the other room turned the music to max volume just as Crowley said that last part.

“YOU WHAT, DEAR?!” Aziraphale leaned in to hear him, becoming increasingly annoyed by their surroundings.

Crowley cupped his hand to Aziraphale’s ear, the alcohol giving him all the courage he needed to get that close. “I SAID, I’M NOT THAT HEARTLESS!”

Aziraphale laughed at this, downing the last of his drink the alcohol causing his cheeks to turn a soft pink from his progressive drunkenness. Aziraphale put his hand on his shoulder and leaned closer so they could hear each other, “I should really find Gabriel!! It’s been hours! Will you help me?!” He was eyeing the small tattoo just above where he’d rested his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. It depicted a small coiled snake that the blonde had never noticed before until just this moment. He had to focus on their conversation to stop himself from running his fingertips over it.

“I don’t think I’ll be much help, but we can look!!” He took one last large gulp from the bottle. He stood up far too quickly, tripping over his own two feet, and having to catch himself on the table. He laughed at how drunk he realized he was.

Aziraphale grinned at this and stood up next to him, helping him steady. “COME ON! You can definitely manage to walk with me!” 

Crowley’s eyes were a little glossy accentuating their golden yellow hue, he looked up as he regained his footing. “Just don’t lose me in this crowd, Azira.” He smiled devilishly back at him.

Aziraphale blushed looking away, opting to just pull him along by the sleeve of his sweater. He was becoming more and more aware that what they were doing could be considered flirting and it was causing him to become nauseous with guilt. If Gabriel thought that’s what was happening, God only knew where that would leave him...but he couldn’t leave Crowley to fend for himself in this state. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all...

They stayed close by one another making their way past the living room, heading down the hall where the office, bedrooms, and bathrooms were located. Crowley was staring at his friend becoming entranced by the bouncing curls as they walked past dozens of party goers. Aziraphale looked like starlight in the semi lit hallway and he wanted so badly to run his fingers through it. 

They stopped abruptly in front of one of the doors causing the red head to almost run into Aziraphale.

“He’s probably in the office, can you wait right here while I look?” He turned towards Crowley as he said this. 

Crowley quickly looked away from him blushing a bright red. “Yah, yah. I won’t move a muscle, I swearrrr, Azira. If you need me,” he plopped down on the floor sitting crisscrossed. “I’ll be right here.” He leaned his head against the wall requiring stability and closed his eyes in an attempt to calm down his wandering mind. He really didn’t want Aziraphale to even find Gabriel, they could just stay in the hallway all night. They could sleep on the floor and finish the bottle of scotch. (What happened to that bottle of scotch anyways?)

Aziraphale shook his head and knocked on the door to the office softly. “Gabriel...?” He poked his head in the crack of the door.

It was nearly impossible to make out what was happening through the billows of smoke circling the small office. There were only two people sitting around a coffee table that was, however, very clearly being used as a dispensary for their drugs. Uriel was sitting on the couch holding Gabriel’s head in her lap with her arms protectively laying over his shoulders, her hands lost under the fabric of his shirt collar. She was strikingly beautiful, wearing only a gold colored crop top and high waisted white shorts that left her dark legs practically glowing against the tight fabric.

Gabriel didn’t even really register that Zira was trying to get his attention and just took a long drag off of the joint lit between his fingers. He looked up to see what the noise was and happened to notice someone was standing at the door.

“I’m busyy.”

He stepped inside of the office, closing the door softly behind him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay…” He was registering his surroundings the more he was in the room. Gabriel’s hand was also lying on Uriel’s thigh in a not-so-friendly-way.

“It’s a fucking party. I’m finee. Do you actuallyy need something or are you just here to bother me?” He passed the joint to Uriel, smiling up at her as he did so.

“Yeah, do you mind, Aziraphale?” Uriel smirked as she pulled on the joint, blowing all the smoke in his direction.

His eyes welled up with tears as a slow burning realization of what he walked in on. “A-Am I interrupting you?"

Gabriel sighed exasperatedly at how tiresome the conversation was becoming. He stood up, stepping towards Aziraphale, towering over him. “I’m celebrating with Uriel. Do you have something you want to say about it?” His eyes were bloodshot; he was obviously high. 

Aziraphale slowly shook his head and ignored the tears spilling down his cheeks. "N-No...I'll leave…" His voice just above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything between you two…" 

"Uh-huh. Get out. You're pissing me off crying like that. No one wants to see how pathetic you are." Gabriel sneered, backing him against the door.

Aziraphale didn't say anything and simply turned outside of the office, shutting the door quickly. He wiped his eyes, hating how absolutely weak he was: Gabriel was most definitely about to cheat on him and all he could do was apologize. He wanted to yell at him and somehow it seemed absolutely impossible to even tell Gabriel he was wrong.

Crowley watched as Azira closed the door behind him, watching as he breathed in trying to get a control of his emotions. He carefully pulled himself off of the floor, still being very much intoxicated, and walked over to him. The light shining from under the office door illuminated the hallway just enough to make out Aziraphale's figure.

Crowley was right in front of him, watching his reaction. "Aziraphale…"

The blonde used his sleeves to wipe his face one more time, he was so quiet, so disheartened. 

"I-I'm fine…you don't have to say a-anything." His voice cracked.

"I won't." Crowley pulled Aziraphale into a tight hug.

He wasn't sure what to do; no one responded kindly to him when he'd cried. They'd been disgusted. It wasn't masculine to cry, it was immature and a sign of weakness. Aziraphale instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around Crowley burying his head into the taller man's chest. He didn't even know what to do anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, I decided to cut this into 2 chapters because it was starting to get a little long. I apologize about the inconsistencies in the chapter lengths?? I kind of just cut them where it feels like time should happen for the most part. Hopefully I make up for it a tad by updating regularly (hopefully hopefully). THANK YOU FOR READING!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)

# Chapter Six:

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Crowley was still holding him.

"You can't drive…" 

"I know that, come on. I can't get through these people without you."

They walked together making their way towards the front door, aiming to make a clean escape from the godawful party. Aziraphale held onto Crowley’s arm still feeling extremely vulnerable from the alcohol consumption and what transpired in the office; he wanted nothing more than to leave this place. Stepping outside, the night air was immediately noted as being much colder than when he arrived.

Crowley steered them towards the parking lot with a bottle in one arm and Aziraphale in the other, clearly making his way towards the Bently. He popped open the back trunk and retrieved a large, fluffy blanket from it. Closing it softly, he opened the back door to the car motioning with his hand to go in.

Aziraphale chuckled at this and sniffed loudly trying to keep from crying anymore. “Y-You can’t be serious…”

“Seeing as how I can’t drive and neither one of us wants to stay in there.” He motioned towards the housing building. “ I am completely serious. I’ve done it a million times, it’s wayyyy comfier than it looks. Trust me. You can always go back inside, I just figured you didn’t want to be there anymore then I did…”

Azira contemplated the pros and cons; stay in the house and inevitably cry himself to sleep before Gabriel joined him (he shuddered at the thought) or get irrevocably drunk with Crowley and pass out in the backseat of his car. Really, he considered the fact that Crowley didn’t seem like he had any intention of hurting him and the same couldn’t be said about his partner. He climbed in past him, grabbing the bottle from him as he did, making himself comfortable in the leather seating. Crowley followed behind him leaning against the opposite seat facing towards his friend. 

There really wasn’t room for the both of them to be lounging out on the backseat, but it was certainly big enough to get comfortable. 

Aziraphale unscrewed the cap and took a large gulp from the bottle, sighing as he did so.

"I thought you weren't much of a drinker?" Crowley took the bottle from him and did the same.

"I don't much care anymore...it's not like I have somewhere to be…" 

Azira was trying to maintain as much distance as he could, but was finding it bothered him less and less the longer they sat. Not to mention the alcohol most certainly lowered both men’s inhibitions.

"Can I ask you something?" Crowley asked him, looking straight ahead rather than at his counterpart.

"Ask awayyy." He slugged back another shot giving a disgusted look at the bottle.

"Why do you stay with him? I don't know what happened in that room, but obviously something did…" Crowley pulled the blankets tight around them, trying to pretend he wasn't bothered by the cold.

Aziraphale gritted his teeth. "Because fate would have it that I fell in love with him. I'm still hoping he's going to go back to the person he was when I was a freshman...after tonight, though, it really doesn't seem likely." He never imagined he'd be saying all of this outloud. It felt comforting for someone to listen to him for once.

He continued. "I also can't afford to stay anywhere else…Gabriel pays for everything except for my share of the rent...when I'm not at school, I work to save my money, so that during the year I can live off of it with minimal help from my parents…" At some point during this, Aziraphale became overwhelmed again and his eyes were watering for the third time this evening.

"Hey, hey, it's okay…" He put his arm around his shoulders. "Have you told your parents about what Gabriel is doing to you…? They'd want to help you, I'm sure." 

Aziraphale shook his head. "I can't tell them, Crowley…" He looked up at him with a defeated expression. "They don't know I-I'm g-gay... they'd never speak to me again…I really am disgusting..."

Crowley's heart dropped at hearing that last part. He'd told himself over and over again those same words about every decision he'd made after leaving home. Hell before he left, his dad would beat it into him, so it was practically a mantra at this point. 

"I don't think you're disgusting at all, Azira…"

Aziraphale drunkenly laid his head on his shoulder. "You're too nice to me. I definitely should be more skeptical of your ulterior motives. And I am disgusting, you know?" He looked up at him. "For starters, I'm a flaming, unemployed, homosexual who's sitting in the back of a car at precisely one in the morning, drunk, and to top it off you're not even my partner. A right disgusting whore it'd seem. My mother would faint." He chugged some of the last of the bottle.

Crowley tried not to laugh at him. "I think you are definitely drunk." He leaned forward, putting the keys in the ignition for the sole purpose of having the radio on a soothing, rock station. As a second thought, he decided to turn on the heat for a bit.

"Drunk enough to think this is a good idea." He chugged the last of the bottle.

"Damn youuu, I wanted some of that!" Crowley was chuckling as he took the bottle and set it on the floor. He leaned his head against the side of the car, holding Aziraphale on his left simply trying to stay warm.

Aziraphale hiccupped. "If Gabriel saw us, I'd be dead." He hiccupped again.

"And why's that?"

"Because you're much more attractive then he is, dear." He followed it with another hiccup and cuddled into Crowley's arm becoming quite comfortable.

Crowley blushed quite red, he knew he was at least somewhat attractive, certainly not ugly. It was different coming from someone he also admired. 

“Can I ask you something now?” Aziraphale lazily questioned him, his words seeming to lag behind their meaning.

“I don’t see why not, what’s up?”

He thought a moment, shifting slightly to better look at Crowley while still being cuddled beside him.

“Why did you--” Aziraphale hiccuped and grinned a drunkenly sort of grin. “Why’d you invite me to lunch then?”

He was quite flustered. “Well...I uh...I guess you looked like you needed a friend.”

Azira started laughing, his face turning a soft red. “That’s rather generous of you. Is that really all? I expected more somehow.”

The red head somehow turned an even darker color of embarrassment if there even was such a shade. He turned away from him trying to retain whatever shred of ambiguity was left in the direction of their conversation.

“You’re drunk, Aziraphale.”

He smiled sweetly. “I am a bit. Thank you, nonetheless. You’ve been exceptionally kind towards me.” 

They settled back into a comfortable position feeling the weight of the night’s events pulling them towards exhaustion. Crowley breathed in sharply, aiming to keep himself from saying or doing something he might later regret. Aziraphale wasn’t making it easy for him to ignore the ever present attraction that was growing within him. It also didn't appear to be the most opportune time for a confession considering the fact they were both highly intoxicated. 

“Don’t mention it, Azira…maybe we should, uh, sleep this off...it doesn’t seem like the party is going to dissipate anytime soon…”

The blonde nodded softly in agreement, suddenly feeling very exhausted. “I reallyyyy don’t want to see what’s going on in there anyhow…”

Crowley held him close allowing for the both of them to relax into a position which would let them fall asleep. He closed his eyes and let his drunken mind wander until he fell into a heavy sleep. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They both passed out into a very comforting sleep, the alcohol allowing them to go undisturbed for most of the evening; the blanket keeping them relatively warmed. 

Aziraphale being the morning person of the two, woke up just as the sun was beginning to rise over the hood of the car. He immediately noticed his head was pounding in the confines of his skull causing it to ache uncontrollably. He hadn't ever experienced much of a hangover (which required drinking in the first place), but this was worse off than he ever thought. His entire being resonated with nausea.

The blonde pulled himself into a sitting position, only just now remembering the events from their previous night. To his astonishment, he was seated in the back of the Bently with a very much asleep Crowley. He barely could remember how the hell they had ended up there. What had they done? Not mentioning, had anyone seen them?

"Crowley…?"

His voice shivered from their chilling surroundings. His teeth were chattering softly, threatening to expose him for how cold he actually was and also causing his aching head to throb.

"Mmmm…'is early…" The red head was barely coherent.

"Crowley, dear, please wake up, it's awfully, dreadfully cold…" 

Crowley rubbed his face with his arm, his eyes fluttering open, and started looking around. He glanced upwards at Aziraphale in the morning light with nothing but frosted windows and sunshine surrounding him. He too was mildly hungover, but it was quickly becoming unimportant compared to how wonderful the blonde looked. 

He blushed profusely and sat himself up, pretending none of this was affecting him.

"Morning?" A smiled played at the side of his mouth. This was all rather amusing to him.

Aziraphale was less amused.

"This is a rather compromising position we've found ourselves in…"

Crowley chuckled a bit, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"That's one way to put it, I suppose." He reached across the car turning the key again for the heat.

Aziraphale chewed the inside of his lip, debating his next move for the day. He didn't exactly want to go inside the apartment, there were still so many cars in the parking lot... luckily it was a Saturday, so there were no classes to speak of, but where was he to go?

Crowley was far less concerned with the state of the parking lot and more so on his lack of caffeine. 

"It's literally only 6:45." He said this as he checked his phone. "Why're we even awake?" He was annoyed, but only slightly. The angel sitting next to him was hardly someone to get annoyed with.

"Well, I'll have you know I was very much inebriated last night." Aziraphale was certainly warming up to his surroundings now. 

"I'm aware, angel, it's perfectly alright, you had a rough night." Crowley rubbed his temples paying no mind.

Aziraphale instantaneously turned a bright red color at the nickname. " 'Angel'? " 

The red head stopped at his temples and opened his eyes wide, realizing his mistake. "Sorry, nothing, I just--" He had to think quickly. "It was just the dream I was having. Sorry, Azira." It wasn't exactly a lie, he supposed.

The blonde ran a hand through his unkempt hair, slowly forcing himself to stop blushing. "It's fine, it's fine, just didn't expect it. Can we…" He bit his lip again. "Can I…" He hated being in such a vulnerable position.

Crowley turned to look at him, really not sure what he was going to ask.

"I know I'm asking a lot, but I really just...can't deal with Gabriel right now…"

Crowley started nodding. "I was going to head home and shower, but we can stop and I can buy you breakfast? The café is even open if you wanna go somewhere familiar?" He understood perfectly what Azira was attempting to ask.

Aziraphale was pulling at the fluff on the blanket avoiding his gaze, "I don't want you to feel obligated, I can really manage alright if there's something you're doing…" He felt terrible asking so much from him, but Crowley had been so understanding yesterday. He didn't want to be alone, but taking advantage of a kind gesture would only make him feel worse about the entire ordeal.

"Nonsense, Azira. Today's my day off and I usually spend it at home anyways. It would be nice to have company for once." He pulled the blanket back and jumped into the front seat. 

Aziraphale watched him do this, trying to gauge the best way to copy his movements. He awkwardly pulled himself into the passenger seat, using Crowley's seat as leverage

Crowley was very much amused by this, he tried his best not to show it.

"What I'm asking is, can I hangout with you for a bit until Gabriel wakes up…? Least then I'll know what I'm in for…"

Crowley's amusement disappeared quickly. "Yah, you can stay with me. Let's head back to my flat for a bit, I'll make you some breakfast, is that okay? My head is killing me too much to deal with Lucifer this early…"

Azira nodded softly leaning his head against the window coated with condensation. He wanted nothing more than to lay down on a proper surface with a nice cup of cocoa.

"If it's not too much, I'd appreciate it…"

"Yah...no problem."

Crowley turned the key in the ignition, making his way towards his place. He had so many questions for Aziraphale. He felt comfortable around him, but he was becoming increasingly aware that he knew next to nothing about the man coming over to his flat. Hell, Hastur hadn't even seen where he lived and he's known them for years now. His heart rate was increasing the closer they got to their destination. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Edited)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Heyoo! This is a much longer chapter because I just haven't been as dedicated to my studies ((and work sucks lol)). I have been reading up on syntax, my grammar, and overall sentence structure, so I plan to go back and edit the previous chapters. I apologize about not properly editing some of these as best as I should sometimes I just get excited and want to post them really fast :D so yah. Thanks as always for reading this shit story!)

# Chapter Seven:

Aziraphale was sitting on the empty, leather couch, hands neatly folded into his lap, silently waiting for Crowley to return from his shower. It's not like he'd been waiting long, but with his head swarming with thoughts of their conversations from yesterday, it felt like an eternity. His headache had subsided a tad after moving into a warmer environment, finally allowing him to relax, but it wasn’t exactly helping his anxiety. Everything they’d spoken about last night in the backseat of the Bently was creeping its way back into the forefront of his mind. All of the suggestive conversation that had been insinuated by the both of them...

His nausea was coming back in full swing to say the absolute least.

Three knocks at the door pulled him out of his own delusions. "Dearie, I saw you come in this morning. I know you're not a morning person, but I've made you and your friend tea. You must eat something at least!" Came from the other side of the door. An elderly lady who smoked liked a chimney it sounded like.

The blonde wasn't sure what to do exactly. It was decidedly rude to answer someone else's door when they hardly knew one another. He didn't live there (of course he didn’t), but Crowley was rather occupied…

He made his way towards the entrance, taking a deep breath. "Ma'am. I don't uh...I don't know you, but I'm the um...friend? Did you say tea?"

"I did, yes, dears. Now open up, this is the landlord!" She knocked another dozen times to emphasize her readiness to break it down lest he decide to open it. 

Aziraphale took one last deep breath, readying himself for whatever was on the other side, and opened the door to find a pink, chiffon, robed Madame Tracey. He immediately looked away, embarrassed by the way she was dressed as though she had just rolled out of bed.

She pushed right past him, not noticing in the slightest how uncomfortable he was by the entire ordeal. “Thank you, dear, it was becoming rather drafty out there in the hallway. I’ll only be by a moment.”

Ms. Tracey set down a floral, lavender tea-tray filled with a tea kettle, matching tea cups, toast, and a fruit assortment. It looked very delicately setup, something only a nice, old lady could prepare, Aziraphale thought to himself.

“Crowley never eats you see, so I’ve been trying to keep him from becoming too peckish.” She beamed with pride of her matronly work and finally eyed Aziraphale up and down. The courtesan had a knack for people, one might even put it as a ‘sense’ for what they’re like before they even utter a word. 

“Um...thank you...uh--I’m Aziraphale. Crowley...” He gestured towards the bathroom. "...is in there. I’m sure he’d want to say thank you at least.” He smiled softly at her trying to remain polite at her intrusion.

She smiled right back at him. “You seem like a respectable young lad, Aziraphale." She shook her head and walked back towards the door, opening it as she went. “I’m not staying, most decidedly not staying.” She turned her head back and winked. “He’s a catch, so don’t rush anything, yah hear? Safety first!”

She pulled the door behind her leaving Aziraphale confused as hell to whatever she meant. She didn’t mean…? Aziraphale blushed profusely pushing the thoughts out of his mind quickly, opting to drink some of the tea provided instead.

Crowley came from around the corner, dressed in black joggers and an athletic tank-top to match, drying his soaking, wet hair.  
“Hope I didn’t take too long.” He eyed the teacup in Aziraphale’s hand questioningly. He raised an eyebrow at him.

The blonde took a long sip, not looking up. “Your landlady.”

The red head nodded in understanding. “Sorry I left you here to deal with her. She doesn’t understand privacy at fucking all.” 

He sat beside Aziraphale a safe distance apart and grabbed the other teacup. He let out a long sigh, finally relaxing as well now that he was in his own home. He turned on the TV, selecting something mindless to have on in the background.

They remained silent next to each other for about an episode or so of The Good Place (Crowley was bored to tears, but he recalled once at the shop Aziraphale saying something about it), only taking sips of their tea or bites of the toast between dialogue of the show. Everything felt tense.

Crowley couldn’t read Aziraphale’s reactions to any of this. The entire scenario felt very new and foreign. No one ever came over to his flat, he’d never introduced anyone to Madame Tracey before, he wondered if this was all how it was supposed to be. Neither one of them wanted to break their unintentional vow of silence. 

“This isn’t weird is it?” Crowley panickingly blurted out. He mentally facepalmed.

Aziraphale tried to hold back laughter at how awkward this all was. “No? I think it’s okay. Do you think it’s weird?” He set his teacup down and pulled his knees up to his chest comfortably.

Crowley leaned his head back and smiled at the ceiling. “No, I just don’t know what to do." He chuckled nervously.

“That makes two of us, I’d say…” Thoughts of their night before came flooding back again causing Aziraphale to smile a bit to himself.

His phone began vibrating on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with the name ‘Gabriel’, and a photo of them together looking happy. Crowley and him both made eye contact for a split second knowing this probably wasn't good.

Azira’s face fell, he quickly grabbed for it, and made his way to the kitchen.

“Hello?”

Crowley could barely make out what he was saying from the living room (not for lack of trying). He took this opportunity to turn off the god awful show he’d chosen. 

“I’m not coming home right now, Gabe. I’m with a friend right now. No, I’m not. Yes, yes, I’ll come home soon, okay? I know...you too.”

Well, Crowley had clearly heard that exchange. 

Azira rounded the corner and exasperatedly fell into the couch, throwing his phone to the side.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He stared ahead, pretending he hadn’t heard any of what they had talked about. “Are you okay?”

The blonde shook his head. “I’m just tired.”

“I can take you home if you need to sleep, I really don’t mind, Azira.”

“No, no I’m not tired as in I’m sleepy, I’m tired of like...this, I suppose.” He sighed. "Not you, I mean the situation, I guess.”

Crowley laid with his back against the arm rest, facing him. “I get what you mean, it’s okay.”

Aziraphale crisscrossed his legs onto the couch. “Gabriel...he just hurts...me. It’s exhausting going through the mental gymnastics with him every day…” He rubbed the back of his hand nervously. “I miss having friends…”

The red head nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“It’s not always bad, yah know?” He threw his hands up and turned towards Crowley. “But god dangit, I just miss being liked. I miss having friends. I miss talking to people. I miss being happy. I shouldn’t have come here, but it’s like…” He thought a second. “It’s like you showed me yesterday that I don’t have to miss all of this. I can just do other things, right?”

Crowley bit his lip. “You can literally do whatever the fuck you want, Aziraphale. In fact, I encourage you to. Gabriel seems like a real piece of work.” Gabriel seemed like a right fucking ass actually.

Aziraphale turned his knees towards Crowley. “Everyone who meets him thinks he's just an absolute saint. I can’t stand it.” He was smiling despite how dark their conversation had turned. He looked manic even.

“Yeah? That’s how people used to see my dad when I was still living at home. My old man sounds really similar to Gabriel unfortunately.” Eerily similar in fact.

“That bad?”

Crowley nodded. “Definitely that bad, but it’s really not something I think about too much anymore. I mean, I left when I was seventeen and I’m twenty-four now, so it’s very much in the past.”

Aziraphale inhaled softly. “You’re twenty-four?”

Crowley smirked, kind of confused by the sudden change of topic. “Yeah. How old are you then?”

“Well, I only just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago…”

The red head grinned at this, absolutely overthrown by amusement. “That’s an interesting fact.”

Aziraphale blushed. “It is not. Don’t make fun of me, I thought you were the same age as me. How was I supposed to know that you were older? And what does it matter anyways? It’s only three years, it doesn’t mean anything.” He looked away at the TV, decidedly annoyed with him, still very much blushing.

Crowley laughed at how embarrassed Azira became about the mention of their age differences. “It doesn’t mean anything at all, Azira. And I’m not just twenty-four. My birthday is about a month from now, so really I’m four years older than you.” He was poking fun at him now.

Aziraphale humphed a response at him. Pretending not to care anymore. “I need a drink to deal with you.”

“I remember you saying you didn’t drink last night. I guess it’s different now that you're of legal age, huh?” Crowley couldn’t help but grin at how cute Aziraphale was when he was embarrassed.

He buried his head into his hands to hide his flushed cheeks. “I take everything back from yesterday, you’re decidedly a very mean guy.”

“Aw. I am not. I’ll get you the drink if you really want it, but I can’t drive anywhere if we both do.” He neglected to mention the fact he didn’t want to take Aziraphale back to his house anyways. Gabriel didn’t seem like the apologizing type.

Aziraphale debated this. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Not until the afternoon.” He checked the time on his phone. “Are we really going to get drunk at 8 AM?” He didn’t expect Aziraphale to be so open about everything or that he’d be so ready to undergo recklessly day-drinking in Crowley’s flat. He wanted to make sure that it wasn’t forced on him in any way. “You could stay the night if we did. The couch is pretty comfortable, I speak from experience.” 

Aziraphale thought about all of this for a second. “This isn’t weird is it? Normal people drink with their friends.”

Crowley smiled slightly at the callback to earlier. “I don’t think it matters really, it’s entirely up to you. I don’t want you to feel obligated to hang out here all day.” He didn’t want him to feel obligated, but he certainly wanted him to say yes at this point.

“Oh what the heck, let’s open a bottle of wine and watch a movie. Can I maybe borrow your shower before we start though? We did sleep in your car yesterday.” He chuckled a bit at this.

The redhead beamed. “Yeah let me grab you some comfortable clothes and a towel.” He jumped up off the couch to help him. "Do you like pizza?"

Azira nodded in the affirmative and headed towards the shower with the towel in hand. Crowley threw a change of clothes on the sink, leaving him to his own devices for the time being.

Crowley set everything up while Aziraphale was showering, trying to make everything perfect to avoid any more awkwardness. He ordered lunch, took all the blankets he could find and threw them on the couch, and set a bottle of wine on the coffee table for them. He quickly went through his stack of movies and picked out a few for Aziraphale to choose from, not wanting to overwhelm him with all of the options.

"Hey Crowley!" Aziraphale yelled from behind the bathroom door. "Where is my shirt??"

"I set it on the counter in there." He walked over and stood next to the door.

"No, like my shirt. I feel weird borrowing your stuff."

"Zira, it's no big deal, your shirt, like, reeks of alcohol. I was going to wash it for you." Crowley smiled.

"Fine, fine, you're right. I'll be out in a second." He huffed.

Crowley went and grabbed his wallet for the pizza just in time for the doorbell to ring.

Aziraphale was staring at himself in the foggy mirror while he dried his hair off. The shirt was a little big on him, it was all black and read "Queen" in bright red lettering. The pants were plaid and a faded, dark, gray that almost hung off of his waist. He wondered how either one of these fit Crowley at all.

He folded the towel neatly, setting it on the counter, and came out of the steamy bathroom. Stepping onto the hardwood flooring he immediately shuddered from the cold that ran through him.

"Pizzas here." Crowley walked out of the kitchen and set the box down along with two plates and napkins. He made himself comfortable on the couch and underneath the giant blanket he'd laid out for them.

The blonde noticed the setup, how cozy the couch now looked, and the open wine bottle waiting for them. Crowley was nestled in the middle of it all currently picking out a slice of pizza. It all looked extremely comfortable and equally as inviting.

Aziraphale wasted no time, quickly diving underneath the blanket on the opposite side of the couch. He poured himself a sizable glass of wine and grabbed a plate as well.

"What're we watching then?" Aziraphale asked in-between bites.

Crowley gestured to the movies. "I picked out a few for you to pick through, it's whichever one you want. There's also a stack over there and I have streaming services."

Aziraphale poured himself a glass and leisurely looked through the movies. “These are all horror movies, Crowley.” He took a sip from the white liquid.

The redhead shrugged at this. “I don’t own anything other then horror movies...check Netflix if yah want, I really don’t care what we watch.” 

Azira grabbed for the remote and flipped through, finally landing on a random original movie that looked relatively harmless (and non-horror related). The title suggested romance comedy, but the description looked more like an action adventure, so really it could be anything, Azira thought to himself.

Crowley laid comfortably out on the couch and aimlessly scrolled through his phone in between sips of the wine while the movie played quietly in their background.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A full bottle-and-a-half later, they were at what was probably the climax of the movie, if you could call it that. It was dreadfully dull and it made Crowley question why he hadn’t just opted for the both of them to take a nap. They’d abandoned the wine glasses at this point finding it an unnecessary obstacle towards their inevitable drunkenness that was creeping up. The pair found themselves practically shoulder to shoulder passing the bottle back and forth.

“You just hadddd to pick this movie, aye? I don’t even think this guy likes her. I mean, he’s got a multimillion dollar company to worry about, why’s he even interested in her?” Crowley took a chug from the bottle, some of it dripping down the side of his chin as he said this.

Aziraphale glossily watched the scene unfold of the man confessing his undying love to her, company be damned. “I have no clue, I just thought it would be better than Saw 2, Crowley.” He snatched the bottle out of his grip and followed suit. Neither one of them were fully intoxicated at this point, you could say they were simply just a bit tipsy. Well, if anyone asked them that’s what they would say (Aziraphale certainly would deny the alcohol consumption at least). 

“Hey, Saw is a good series. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” Crowley fully stopped watching the movie and looked towards a relatively slumped over Aziraphale as he attempted to remain focused on the screen. The blonde was nervously checking his phone every few minutes because of it continuously lighting up alerting him to missed messages. One could only assume who was the culprit behind their interruption. 

The credits slowly faded onto the screen causing the entire room to go fairly dark. Aziraphale slid onto the floor in front of the couch pulling the comforter along with him. He leaned his head back onto the couch cushion.

“Crowley...why are you so trusting of me? I feel like we’ve known each other for years, but really we’ve only been talking for a few weeks…”

“I mean...I like to think I’m pretty good at judging other people’s character and I’d say there’s really not any reason not to trust you...did that make sense? I really can’t tell.” Crowley slid down beside him, paying no mind to the credit rolls. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you, I suppose.”

Aziraphale took the last gulp of their wine, setting the empty bottle on the table in front of them. He turned his head to face Crowley in the dimly lit room. “Have you ever been in a bad relationship before?”

“I’ve never dated anyone period...I mean not really at least.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped comically. “How is that even possible?”

He shrugged. “Hastur took me as their date to a wedding once, but I doubt that really counts considering everyone already knew we weren’t actually together.”

The blonde most definitely didn’t believe him. “So you’ve never kissed anyone? Or anything? Why? I mean, look at you!” Aziraphale gestured towards him for emphasis.

Crowley became a bit embarrassed at the call out. “I only ever kissed someone on a dare back in middle school. So not really. I’ve just never met someone that seemed worth the effort. It seemed just like a good way to get myself into even more trouble as a kid.” He reached over him for the remote. “Plus, I’m from a small town. Everyone would’ve known the moment I started dating around.”

Aziraphale contemplated this for a bit, mulling it over back and forth in his too sloshed mind. “Can I ask you something personal?”

He laughed a bit, flipping through the TV for a distraction. “More personal than the last ten questions you asked me? Sure, I guess. What’ve I got to lose.” He picked something and just turned it down low.

Aziraphale swallowed hard. “A-Are you gay?”

Crowley met his gaze. “Well, I’ve never been interested in women before...I’d say yes, but I haven’t dated anyone, so it’s sort of hard to tell without solid evidence. My father seemed to think so.” He watched as Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a soft pink at the realization of his sexuality.

Not that it changed anything that they were doing, but Azira was much more aware of the way they were looking at one another now. Much more aware of their alcohol consumption and their flirtatious manner in which they were sitting on the floor together. The weight of their interactions since the day, a few weeks ago, where he came into the shop and Crowley gave him his drink.

Crowley’s mind wasn’t too far off from what Azira was thinking as well. The distance between them felt like nothing right about now.

The slightly elder man couldn’t help but look down at Aziraphale’s lips, partially chapped from the night before, it was taking a lot of self restraint not to close the distance between them. Crowley hadn’t lied at all about him not being sure if he was interested in men, but at this moment he was fairly certain the question was answered in the affirmative. He wanted Aziraphale to stay with him like that for eternity if they could. 

Neither one of them dared to move, fearing which one of them would break first. 

“Crowley...I-I’m glad I met you.” Aziraphale almost inaudibly said to him.

Crowley looked away running his hand through his hair nervously. “You too, Azira.” He stood up suddenly wanting a bit of distance between them before he did something they’d both regret. He mindlessly cleaned up the living room. “I know it’s early, but I’m exhausted…”

The blonde nodded quickly looking away from him as well. “Same here…” He reached for his phone and frantically began answering all of his messages. He sighed softly. “Gabriel really wants to come get me, Crowley…”

The red head was walking everything into the kitchen as Aziraphale said this. He leaned his head against the fridge, knowing the other couldn’t see him, and closed his eyes. “Do you want my address?”

“N-No…” 

Crowley barely heard him, but his eyes shot open at the tone in his voice. He rounded the corner back into the living room to see Aziraphale’s head laying on the coffee table and tears streaming down his eyes.

Crowley let out a shaky breath and sat back right next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. “What’d he say?” He brushed his curly mop of hair out from his eyes and ran his fingers through it soothingly.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to stop crying. “H-He’s just angry because I didn’t respond. H-He wants to know who you are, but I don’t want to t-tell him. I-I --”

“Hey, hey, breathe. It’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to me.” Crowley pulled him into a hug. “And listen, eventually you’ll have to go back there at least to pack, but I won’t let anything happen to you either. Maybe you should consider talking to your parents about what’s going on. They don’t have to know you two are together.”

Aziraphale nodded and sniffled in response.

Crowley let him go. “Come on.” He stood up and extended his hand out. “Let’s go sleep.”

The blonde stood up, blanket in one hand, taking Crowley’s in the other. He let himself be pulled towards the bedroom, not having the energy to object one way or the other (not that he would).

“You can take my bed, I’m going to sleep in the living room, so you’re able to get comfortable…”

Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. “Do you have to leave…?” 

Crowley shook his head and went around to the other side and laid down, pulling the comforter over them. “We’ll figure something out when we wake up. Just sleep.” He kissed the top of his head causing Aziraphale to blush profusely. He pulled away and laid a good distance away from him, so they both could attempt to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me some comments, my loves  
> Instagram: @patrick_kohai for updates!


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